If Love is the Answer What's the Question?
by spikeNdru
Summary: Spike teams up with Cordy to save the world . . . with a little help from Lilah and Fred.


"**If Love is the Answer, What's the Question?"**

Author: spikeNdru

Genre: General/Drama/Humor

Rating: PG-13

Length: 7,323 words

Time frame: Season 5 AU, post "Home". Written prior to the beginning of Season 5, so there are no spoilers for canon.

Pairings: Spike & Cordy, Spike & Lilah, Spike & Fred friendships

Summary: Spike teams up with Cordy to save the world.

Disclaimer: All characters belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy and 20th Century Fox. No infringement is intended. I'm just playing with them. If there is a problem with that, contact my attorneys at Wolfram and Hart.

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**Part 1**

She had to get away. She had something important to do but she was trapped. . . somewhere. Where was she? She couldn't move, couldn't see. Why couldn't she see? This had to be a dream---a very bad dream. Okay, dream. She would open her eyes and wake up and it would all be a dream. Okay, eyes opening now. Why weren't her eyes opening?

_Oh, God, what if I'm dead! I don't feel dead. What does dead feel like, anyway? If I were dead, wouldn't I be on a higher plane or something?_

She had a vague recollection of someone saying something about a higher plane. Bright, white light, glow-y white robes and Birkenstocks. Like she'd be caught dead in Birkenstocks! Maybe she was dead. Or, what if she was . . . undead. No mirrors for the undead. No mirrors would be worse than Birkenstocks. How could you be sure what you hair looked like if there were no mirrors? Hair . . . That blonde highlighting had been a _big_ mistake! Did she still have the blonde highlights? And if she was undead, would she be stuck with them for all eternity? No, it would be okay. She could color her hair even if she was undead. Spike colored (or, technically, un-colored) his hair. Un-colored, un-dead hair; what would be the non-negative concept of that? Colored, dead hair? Is non-negative even a word? And hair products . . . how could you get that right without a mirror? What were the choices? Straight back like Spike or straight up like Angel? Neither was even remotely her style, thank you very much. And she had always had such good hair. Really, one of her best features (with the exception of the said blonde highlights!) Why wasn't she waking up? Where was she? Where was Angel?

"**GET ME OUT OF HERE!"**

**Part 2**

Cordelia opened her eyes and looked around. Well, she tried to look around, but there really wasn't much 'around' to look at. All she could see was green light. It was like being under water. Well, not really under water---that was more blue-green and this was more gold-green. Not lime . . . not that chartreuse that Nichole Kidman wore to the Oscars . . . somewhere in-between. Where the hell was she?

She sat up and the green . . . air? . . . liquid? . . . whatever . . . in front of her coalesced into a familiar figure. Cordy jumped up, flashing her trademark Mary Tyler Moore smile and threw her arms around Doyle.

"Oh, God! I must be dead. Doyle's dead, and if he's here with me then I must be. . ."

"Ye're not dead, darlin'. Ye're just elsewhere."

"Elsewhere? Elsewhere where? What does that even mean?"

"There's been a shift in the balance. A Rogue Power rose and caused a rift allowing the First Evil to come through. Two Champions have been compromised. Two more must set things to rights for the balance to be restored."

"Cryptic, much? Just tell me what's been going on, Doyle!"

"Ah, I wish I could, Cordy. All right, listen up, I'll tell ye what I can. Two acknowledged Champions of Light were set trials by the dark side and they didn't exactly pass with flyin' colors! They both gave into hopelessness and depression, and pretty much withdrew from life. They abused and rejected those that cared about them, and generally weren't very pleasant to be around, if ye catch my drift. One of the PTB went rogue, decided to take over the world, shifted the balance and allowed the First Evil to try and manifest. Things were startin' to go to hell in a hand basket. But, lucky for our side, the Champions were down but not out. They each brought a dark warrior into the light who both sacrificed themselves for the greater good."

"Darla . . ." Cordelia murmured.

"Darla. And Spike."

"Spike? **SPIKE**?? I spent all night locked in a closet because of Spike! With Willow, I might add! He and Drusilla assembled that big, blue Judge guy to destroy the world! He tortured Angel to get that ring thingy," she paused for breath before delivering the most damning evidence of Spike's evilness, "He slept with Harmony!"

"Yeah, well, Spike chose to turn away from the dark side. He's been a warrior for Light for some time, and now he's a Champion. His sacrifice restored the balance in Sunnydale and allowed us to bring you back into the fray. Ye may be able to complete the balancing if ye choose to return. It's up to ye, now darlin'. Wha'da'ye say?"

Cordelia took a step closer to Doyle and delicately reached out to cup his cheek with her hand. Leaning closer, she gently kissed him. Stepping back, she put her hands on her hips and declaimed:

"**Get me out of here!"**

**Part 3**

Cordy opened her eyes again. Good God, where was she now? There was definitely some 'Alice through the looking glass' vibe going on. OK, floating, kind of glow-y . . . Oh, crap! She was back where she started! This was the place Skip sent her to when she 'ascended'. Couldn't be 'Heaven' cause she'd pretty much decided she wasn't dead. And, besides, this place was way too boring to be anyone's idea of heaven.

"Never was one for boredom m'self, love."

"Spike! What are you doing here? Where are we? Would someone PLEASE tell me . . ." she grabbed two handfuls of his glow-y white T-shirt and attempted to shake him.

". . . What the bleedin' hell is going on?" he finished for her. "Not sure I've completely sussed out the situation m'self, pet. Near as I can figure, we both got played by the Puppetmasters That Be. Mine was definitely evil, dunno for sure about yours, yet. Sort of 'does the end justify the means' territory there and existential thought makes my head hurt. I got free of mine, got my own free will back, made my own choices and I'm here to help you get yours back. Wanna play?"

"OK, time out. You're evil, Spike. Why should I believe anything you say?"

"Haven't really been evil for quite a while. I've reformed. Can't see m'self as good, but I throw down for the white hats, now."

"How did this happen? What changed?"

"Fell in love with a girl, got close to her family, got chipped by special ops, fell into workin' for the good guys by default, buggered things up so bad even **I** couldn't live with myself, made a deal with a demon, got my soul back, promised myself I'd never let her down again, no matter what, so when Peaches took a powder again, I got to save the world." Spike smirked at Cordelia, "That's the Reader's Digest condensed version, but figured I'd skip over all the pain and suffering. That part's bloody boring, in'nt?"

Cordelia advanced on Spike until they were standing toe-to-toe.

"Listen up, soul-boy! Apparently there's a big, honking hole in my memory, I've been shuttled around from one dimension to another like a possessed pinball, you can't tell the players without a scorecard anymore, and I. Am. Getting. Very! Cranky! I want the 411, and I want it NOW, Buster!"

Spike's smile lit up his whole face.

"Always did appreciate a nice bit of attitude, pet. You and me are gonna get along just fine."

A rectangular transparency, similar to a large-screen plasma TV, appeared out of nowhere. Spike gestured to it as a picture of Wesley began to form.

"Meanwhile, back at the ranch . . ." he said.

**Part 4**

Wesley looked around the library provided by W&H with awe. What the Council could have done with only a tenth of these resources! But, then again, the Council wasn't in the business of attempting to control the world. Their focus was much narrower---control of teenaged girls. "Although, I must say, they failed rather spectacularly with the last two," Wesley murmured to himself.

With all this accumulated esoteric knowledge at his fingertips, there should certainly be some way for him to aid Lilah in addition to assisting Angel in his mission. After all, wasn't it a solicitor who had said "Contracts were made to be broken"? He would not shirk his responsibilities to A.I., but what he did in his personal time was his private business.

He supposed the first order of business would be calling up Lilah's files. Seating himself at the large, antique partners' desk, he leaned back in the comfortable chair and steepled his fingers.

"Access Lilah Morgan's files," he ordered.

With a translucent shimmer, a laptop appeared on the desk and a series of file cabinets shimmered into existence.

"The computer first, I think," he decided, and typed '_Lilah Morgan'_.

"H-m-m-m. Now what would Lilah have chosen as her password? Not something obvious, or biographical, of course. Nothing her co-workers could intuit to gain access to her special projects and personal files."

Wes thought for a moment, then with the ghost of a smile, he typed '_relationship_' and was in.

Wesley glanced at the index for Special Projects. My, my, Lilah had certainly been a busy little bee. There were at least a hundred, possibly more, files listed. And these were only the Special Projects Lilah was involved with. He had no doubt there were a similar number of Special Projects under the direction of the other high echelon Wolfram and Hart employees. He would need to acquaint himself with these projects at another time. For the present, his primary interest was in Lilah's personal files. Pulling up the index gave him a list of fourteen separate files: ANGEL, ANYANKA, CONNOR, CORDELIA, DARLA, FAITH, GAVIN, HOLLAND, HOLTZ, LEE, LINDSEY, LINWOOD, WESLEY, WILLOW. Very interesting choices. These were the people Lilah considered players, and the omissions were nearly as telling as the inclusions. No files on Gunn or Fred or Lorne or . . . Buffy.

Cautious by both training and inclination, Wesley studied the file names without attempting to open any of them. He reached into his breast pocket for his own leather-bound notebook and pen, and started sorting the names into columns. The first was easy---co-workers and/or rivals: Gavin, Holland, Lee, Lindsey and Linwood. The second column included those names W&H either controlled, wished to control, had worked with or had specific plans for: Angel, Cordelia, Darla, Faith, Holtz and himself. A third column for wildcards: Anyanka, Connor, Willow. Looking for commonalities, Wesley turned the page and began a second list. Two columns this time---those who had deliberately killed, embraced the darkness at some point in their lives or been otherwise corrupted, and those who hadn't.

This time Column A included: Angel, Anyanka, Cordelia, Darla, Faith, Holtz, the entire W&H contingent, Wesley and Willow. Only one name remained unaccounted for, so this was the logical place to start. He opened the file marked '_Connor_', and was blinded by an unbearably bright flash of light. Reflexively shutting his eyes, he failed to see the dark, fog-like wisps that first surrounded him, and then were drawn inside.

XXXXXXXXXX

In the 'Elsewhere', Cordelia turned to Spike.

"Yeah, so? Wes is in trouble again; it must be Wednesday! What are we supposed to do about that creepy dark cloud thing when we seem to be stuck here---in case you haven't noticed? I can't do a damn thing about it because, '_Hey, Elsewhere_! and I've had about enough of it. And who's Connor?"

Tilting his head and raising one eyebrow, Spike replied.

"Oh, you have been away!"

**Part 5**

Wesley pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and index finger. He felt the beginnings of a headache build behind his eyes. For such a 'state of the art' building, this place seemed to have rather poor ventilation. He had felt quite dizzy for a moment. Perhaps he should continue this later. He couldn't imagine that whatever he had been doing was very important, after all. He hadn't really been an essential member of the team for some time. The initial prickling of the headache had blossomed . . . it felt as though the very molecules of his brain were being rearranged. Yes, he definitely would not be able to accomplish anything further today.

A nice, brisk walk would clear his head. He would stop at that Thai restaurant on his way home and get carry-out for his dinner. A relaxing shower, some Puccini, or perhaps the Verdi, an early night, and he would be right-as-rain tomorrow.

XXXXXXXXXX

Stopping by Wesley's office, Angel wasn't surprised to not find him there. The adjacent library was a much better bet; however, Wesley wasn't there, either. Returning to Wes' office, Angel approached the desk to leave a note for him.

Sitting down in Wesley's chair, he reached for the yellow legal pad on the desktop. Glancing at the computer screen, he froze. Wes had somehow managed to access Lilah's files. Curious about what Lilah had on him, he was about to open his own file when he noticed the third name on the list.

Connor. Just seeing the name made him feel like an Aqardnk demon was ripping out his entrails and eating them, while still attached. Funny, he had never been very emotional. His emotions generally seemed to run the gamut from stoic to brooding---not like Spike, whose mercurial moods were always right out there. He had been proud of his self-control, his ability to detach and sublimate---but that control was illusory when it came to Connor.

Clicking open the file, he buried his face in his hands, momentarily overwhelmed with memories, and thus failed to notice the fog-like wisps permeating his body.

**Part 6**

In the Senior Partners' dimension, Holland smiled at Lilah. He exuded an air of grandfatherly affection that he had used so effectively in life to disarm rivals and opponents alike.

"Lilah, my dear, I've just been appraised of a very interesting development of which I had previously been unaware. It appears that both Mr. Wyndam-Pryce and Angel have been infected by a Quar'toth parasitic fear demon.

Lilah's eyes widened. "Wesley . . ."

Holland turned up his smile another notch. "The Senior Partners are very pleased, and they feel most of the credit is due to you. Since I was responsible for bringing you into the firm, it looks like we're both in line for promotions."

Holland reached out to shake Lilah's hand and the moment they touched, they were both transported to the center of an energy vortex. Rich, glowing colors and lights swirled around them, and they each stood on a runic symbol, with apparently nothing solid beneath it.

Lilah could handle the chaotic swirling around and above her, but was uncomfortable looking down. She was intellectually aware she was non-corporeal, but to actually see herself standing on nothing but a glowing symbol was unsettling. As Lindsey would say, it "creeped her out". She pulled her attention back to hear a voice, that seemed to be all around her and in her head at the same time, asking her how she had accomplished this. Thinking fast, Lilah realized what must have happened, and also how she could spin this to her advantage.

"We are very pleased, Ms. Morgan," the voice concluded.

"Thank you, sir," Lilah replied. "During his sojourn in Quar'toth, the boy, Connor, had been infected by a Roq M'Hzr---a parasitic fear/paranoia demon that bonds with the host on a cellular level. It preys on one's deepest fears and insecurities until it eventually devours all of its host's feelings leaving a living, but emotionless, husk filled only with despair. As you are aware, the dealmaker to getting Angel to accept W&H was a new life for Connor. Using some of his DNA, I created a computer 'replica' Connor. When Angel 'killed' the real Connor, it was to force the Roq M'Hzr to jump from its host to the replica host, where it was trapped. Without the Roq M'Hzr, Connor could experience feelings, emotions and love, and all that was needed was to wipe his memories and give him new ones. I also utilized some monks we have under contract to insert memories of Connor always having been there into the minds of his new family and friends."

"Ingenious," commented the 'voice' of one Senior Partner, while another asked, "But how did you know the memory transference would be universally accepted?"

"That wasn't a concern, sir," Lilah answered. Other members of the order had successfully accomplished it previously in Sunnydale."

"Very good," said the voice. "You have done well, Ms. Morgan, Mr. Masters. We assume you will be following these new developments?"

"Thank you," Lilah replied. "Shall we report directly to you on this matter?"

"We will contact you when necessary," the voice replied, and Lilah found herself back in this dimension's replica of her apartment.

XXXXXXXXXX

Angel stood by the wall of windows in his penthouse suite, looking over Los Angeles. The City of Angels---it was his city, but he was daily becoming more removed from the people in it. He had started in a small office in an actual neighborhood, and with the help of Cordelia and Doyle, had actually gotten involved in people's lives.

The move to the Hyperion allowed him to isolate himself within his own insular group, and after the fiasco with Darla, he generally only went out to fight monsters---he no longer needed to actually get to know any of the people he saved.

Now, here he was . . . on the top floor of the W&H building, looking down on the city and all the people in it.

Connor was lost to him---he had to completely give up any chance of ever getting to know him or developing any kind of father-son relationship in order to save him. He couldn't save Cordy---she was still comatose and may never recover. He couldn't save Darla . . . Doyle was dead, the Oracles were dead, Darla was dead . . . shit! even Spike was dead because of him. He couldn't save _anyone_ . . . what good was he? Even Faith had damn near died trying to save him. Why did he even bother? His father had told him he'd never amount to anything . . .

He'd thought he was doing the work of the Powers, but nothing was clear anymore. Jasmine . . . Skip . . . Cordelia . . . who could you trust? Who could you count on?

XXXXXXXXXX

Alone in his own cheerless apartment, Wesley was thinking very similar thoughts.

**Part 7**

It was nearly eleven when Wes finally entered his office at W&H. What did it matter what time he came in? It wasn't as if he had an actual job. He had not been able to function as Watcher to either Buffy or Faith. His Rogue Demon Hunter persona was . . . laughable. He thought he had finally found his niche with A.I., but look where his 'skills' had led him there . . . "The father will kill the son"? There wasn't any son! Jasmine may have been many things, but male definitely wasn't one of them. He was still rather hazy on the details---everything had happened so fast. The Beast appeared, blotted out the sun, somehow impregnated Cordelia who gave birth to Jasmine, slipped into a coma, and now they were working for Wolfram and Hart? It made no sense. Or, he was just too incompetent to make sense of it.

XXXXXXXXXX

Fred and Lorne were having lunch together in the sumptuous lounge area. Fred helped herself to lobster, empanadas, pressed duck pizza, a New York style hot dog, and cheesecake with raspberry sauce from the extensive buffet. Lorne looked at her plate and shuddered. Fred poured grape Ne-hi into a Waterford crystal goblet and took a sip.

"D'ya notice that we never go out anymore?" she asked. "Everything we could ever want or need is right here. I haven't even been out of this building in weeks."

"There you have it, Fredikins. Why go out? Everything is right here."

"But don'tcha miss kickin' off your shoes and just curlin' your toes into the grass?"

"The nine-hole golf course here has all the grass I need, cupcake!"

Fred sighed. "Maybe next week, we could take some time off and go to the beach . . . or Disneyland!"

"Maybe," Lorne half-heartedly agreed.

XXXXXXXXXX

Fred removed her safety goggles and stretched. She had been working almost around the clock for two weeks, but the project was finally completed! She hadn't really seen anyone but Knox, and she wanted to share her excitement with her friends. Hanging up her lab coat, Fred went in search of someone to talk to.

Gunn was nowhere to be found. Fred wasn't sure where to even look for him . . . come to that, she wasn't even sure what he did here. Lorne was apparently tied up with clients, 'cause the door was locked and she could hear singing from inside.

She gave a little wiggle of her fingers and a half smile each time she heard some stranger say "Good afternoon, Ms. Burkle." Gracious! How did the Royal Family or even the President stand it? All these strangers that seemed to know you and you didn't know a one of 'em. And them all acting like you're the best thing since sliced bread, but really, you're just you and they don't have the foggiest idea who '_you_' is---not really.

Fred breathed a sigh of relief when she got to Wesley's office. She knocked timidly, and carefully poked her head around the partially open door, ready to retreat if he was busy with something important. She didn't see him in the office, so she edged inside to check the library. There he was, sitting at the mahogany table, just staring into space.

He looked at her with dull eyes. "All these books . . . all this knowledge . . . and I'll never know even a fraction of it. I'm a fraud, Fred. My value to the group has been based on my intellect; my ability to seek out esoteric knowledge and apply it to the situation at hand, but I've been wrong so many times. I don't have half the brain you do. I'm no good at anything I do. I've been an embarrassment to my family my entire life . . ." His voice trailed off and his unfocussed eyes stared at images only he could see.

Fred gently closed the door to the library. "Okay. Somethin' is definitely wrong with Wesley. And I'm not helping him any, just standin' here talking to myself! I'd better go find Angel."

She left the office and hurried down the corridor to Angel's domain.

She found Angel with his back to the new glass, not even noticing the sun warming his shoulders and arms. He seemed to be even more broody than usual. Fred watched carefully as she filled him in on Wes' apparent depression, but failed to see even a spark of interest or caring. In fact, Angel seemed to be in as bad shape as Wesley.

"Oh, geez, I'm gonna be out here all alone again on this one, aren't I?" Fred asked rhetorically.

**Part 8**

Lilah woke to find 'someone' in her apartment. A very attractive, slim, blonde someone, slouched in her Queen Anne chair, with one leg casually thrown over the arm, insolently smoking a cigarette.

Lilah threw back the covers and swung her legs over the side of the bed. Electric blue eyes immediately slid to her legs. Lilah crossed her legs and slowly looked him over from head to toe.

"Hm-m-m. I don't remember ordering delivery. But I was never one to look a gift perq in the mouth."

Spike shifted into game face and smiled wickedly, running his tongue over his teeth. "Maybe you should, love."

Lilah stretched, lifting her hands over her head, causing her silk sleepwear to ride up her thighs another six inches and tighten in places guaranteed to set his non-existent pulse racing. Spike shifted back to human face and smiled appreciatively.

"You must be Spike. Drusilla's get," Lilah spoke and raised one eyebrow. "The only vampire in the history of existence to ever voluntarily get a soul. There's got to be something in the crazy lady's blood! You get a soul, Darla stakes herself to give birth to her son . . . I guess insanity really is hereditary!"

Spike threw back his head and laughed.

"I've heard things about you, Lilah, but the reports don't even begin to do you justice, pet!"

"As amusing as this is, I assume you're here for a reason; or is it just that the women in the '_good_' dimensions don't have what it takes?"

Spike clicked his tongue against his upper teeth. "Now, now, pet!" he chided her. "You got that right; I am here for a reason. Something really bad is eating away at Angel and Wesley and I think you know what it is. You're gonna tell me how to fix it."

"And I should just help you out of the evilness of my heart?"

"Well, yeah," Spike replied.

"What's in it for me?" Lilah arched an eyebrow. This was fun! She was enjoying matching wits with Spike. Everyone around here was so deadly serious. It was times like this that made her realize how much she missed Lindsey.

"You love him, don't you?" Spike asked.

"What? Lindsey? No! We were just co-workers . . ."

Spike gave her a disgusted look. "Can we get back on topic here? I don't know how long I can manifest in this dimension. If it wasn't for the vampire demon, I wouldn't be able to be here at all. So I need to know, are you willing to help Wesley or not? Whatever it is, it's affecting both Angel and Wesley, but Angel's used to being all dark and broody . . . sort of his natural state, if you know what I mean . . . been like that for soddin' ever . . ."

"Now who's off topic?"

"Oh, sorry. Personal issues. Anyway, old Wes is in really bad shape. Prob'ly not gonna make it. He's been working on trying to save you, so I thought you might be willin' to return the favor."

Lilah gave Spike a long, level look. "What do you need?"

XXXXXXXXXX

"Hi, honey, I'm home!"

Cordelia placed her hands on her hips and glared at Spike.

"Where the hell have you been? I turned my back for a second, and Poof! you were gone!" Cordelia glared daggers at Spike.

Spike produced his best evil smirk. "Yes . . . and no," he answered.

Cordelia continued to glare, hands remained on hips, and she added foot tapping to her repertoire.

" '_Yes_', I was in hell, an' _'no'_, I'm not a poof." Spike paused to light a cigarette. "Had an idea to suss out some information. Didn't wanta tell you 'till I knew if it'd work. A lot of my plans don't exactly produce stellar results. This one seemed to go alright, so maybe it was not havin' Buffy in the mix that made the difference. The Slayer had an annoying habit of cockin' up some of my best . . ."

"SPIKE!" Cordelia broke in with a near-meltdown tone of voice.

Spike grinned. "Know anything about computers, love?"

"Some. I can navigate my way around the demon data bases, send e-mail, and I've got Office-Works down pat, but if you mean actual programming or figuring out what makes them work or how to fix 'em, not so much. You?"

" 'Bout the same. We need somebody like Willow, but I couldn't pick up on her essence to find her. Wherever Red is and whatever she's doin', she's cloaked."

"We can use Fred! Behind that butter-wouldn't-melt simpering and adorable giggle is a mind like a steel trap."

"Fred has an adorable giggle?"

"Fred's a girl, you nit! She's also a certified genius." Cordelia ran her hands through her hair. "Okay. Faith and Buffy were able to communicate with each other while Faith was in a coma, but that may have been a slayer thing. If you can get Fred to wherever the rest of me is, maybe we can work this."

"What'd'ya mean, pet?"

"Here's the thing. I'm '_here_' but I don't have a real body '_here_' so my real body must be somewhere else. I've already figured out I'm not dead, so I'm still connected to the rest of me. If I concentrate, I could probably get close to the physical me and if you and Fred are there, we could talk to her. It sounds good in theory, but never having been a sci-fi geek, what do I know? It's at least worth a shot!"

"Right you are, love. I'm in. We'll give it our best."

Cordy smiled brightly. "And if it doesn't work, you could always go haunt John Edward until he gets a hold of Fred. He has conversations with dead people, right?"

XXXXXXXXXX

Back in her own apartment at W&H, Fred was busily covering a wall with mathematical equations, logarithms and symbols. This particular activity had kept her sane---well, mostly sane---in Pylea and she still found it useful to focus her concentration and to help her think. She stepped back from the wall to be able to see her most recent formula in its entirety, when a translucent figure formed between her and the wall. Fred let out a squeak and dropped her marker.

"Oh, you can see me, then, pet. That's good."

A semi-hysterical giggle burst out, and Fred clapped her hand over her mouth, her eyes as wide as saucers.

"Adorable giggle: check. You must be Fred, then."

"Wh-who are you?"

"Spike. I'm a . . . friend . . . of Angel's. Cordy and I need your help, Fred."

"Y-you know Cordy?"

"Well, yeah. She's the one sent me to find you. You are Fred?"

Fred nodded vigorously.

"Well, that's alright, then. Found you first try. Good on me! Happen to know where they're keepin' Coma-Cordy, then, pet?"

"W-what d'you wanna know for?"

Spike explained Cordelia's theory.

XXXXXXXXX

Fred led the way to the small, but state-of-the-art, fully functioning hospital unit housed in the W&H building. She nodded at the doctor and nurses on duty and paused at the door of the last room.

"I'd like to be alone with her, please," Fred informed the hospital staff and swiped her access card through the electronic door lock.

Allowing the barely visible, now transparent Spike to slip in before her, Fred entered the room and took out a cell phone. Pressing a sequence of numbers, Fred placed it on the bedside table and explained to Spike, "I've set up a kind of force field. It won't affect the data transference from any of her medical monitoring equipment, but it will jam any potential listening or recording bugs whoever built this place might have put in that we don't know about. I mean, you think the government's bad? I wouldn't put anything past Wolfram and Hart!"

Spike was honestly curious. "If they're that bad, why do all the goody-goods in the Fang Gang work for them, then?"

"Well, now, that's a real long story and I'm not even sure I understand all of it myself. I don't think we work for them, exactly, at least I sure hope not. As far as I can figure, they just gave us this building."

"And why'd they do that, love?"

"Because we ended world peace?"

Spike raised an eyebrow and tilted his head.

"I told you it was a long story! And shouldn't we be doin' whatever it is we're supposed to do while we're here?"

XXXXXXXXXX

Looking down at her own sleeping form was way creepy, Cordelia decided, but on the plus side, the blonde highlights were gone. What had she been thinking? She looked great in dark hair! But even the highlights were way better than that horrid, brassy, French's mustard color Paige was currently sporting on Charmed. She had actually read for that part! For the first time, Cordy was glad she hadn't gotten it, because there was obviously an evil conspiracy at work! Phoebe goes back to brown, so they make the new girl take on the 'blonde role', even though blonde is so not her color and she looks like shit in it! Ah, the perils of third billing, but . . .

"I would have been great in that role!"

Cordy's musings came to an abrupt halt as she realized Spike and Fred were there, and apparently had been talking for some time.

"Ah, there you are, Cor. Glad you made it okay," Spike greeted her.

"You can see her?" Fred whispered.

"Well, yeah. She's in her astral body an' I seem to be a sort of ghost. I can see and hear her; you can see and hear me, so looks like I get to be the conduit. Let's get this dog-and-pony show on the road!"

They spent the next half hour pooling information and discussing possible strategies.

"Let me get to work on the computer and then we'll meet here, same time tomorrow," Fred suggested, picking up the cell phone that Knox designed, but that she had personally upgraded.

Fred left to go to her suite; Spike and Cordy returned to the 'Elsewhere'.

**Part 9**

"Grrr Arrgh!" Cordy stood perfectly still, her hands clenched into fists at her sides, frustration and nervous energy roiling off her in waves.

"Ever try pacing, pet? 'S what I generally do when I'm feelin' the way you look," Spike suggested.

"This . . . this . . . '_plan_' of yours, Spike . . ." Cordelia sputtered. "This can't work . . . it's bizarre . . . it's . . . insane!"

"Yeah, it's 'insane troll logic'." Spike grinned.

"And what makes you think Lilah-I'm-evil-and-proud-of-it-Morgan would ever agree . . ."

Fred entered the room and both Spike and Cordelia turned to face her.

"Hi, guys!" Fred was nearly bursting with excitement. "Well, I worked all night and I've got the trap all figured out. Well, it's not a real trap---not like that little box they used in Ghostbusters or anything. It's more of a cyber trap; actually it's more of a code that acts like a trap . . ." Fred took a deep breath. "I'm babbling again, aren't I? Anyway, the 'trap' is good to go, so if you wanna go get Lilah now, Spike, Cordy an' I'll just wait here."

Fred leaned toward Spike and whispered, "Cordy is here?"

Spike nodded and disappeared.

"Well, that's good." Fred smiled and waved at a spot about six feet above Cordelia's physical body. "Hi, Cordy!"

Cordy, who happened to be standing next to Fred, sighed.

XXXXXXXXXX

A short time later, Spike and Lilah manifested.

"Hey, Lilah! It's good to see you again. Well, I hope it's good, seein' as the last time I saw you, you gave us an evil law firm and I still haven't quite figured out what that means yet, but if seein' you this time means you're here to help us, that's good and . . . can you see Cordy?"

"Hello, Fred. Nice to see you again, too. How've you been?"

"Oh, I've been keepin' real busy. You wouldn't believe . . . I'm yammerin' again, aren't I? We should prob'ly get started."

Lilah automatically took charge.

"If I understand the plan, as Spike presented it, Fred has devised the computer trap."

Fred nodded, and Lilah continued. "Both Angel and Wesley have been modified by the Roq M'Hzr parasite. Spike has postulated that the only force stronger than fear is love. Spike is willing to share some of his essence with---do you mind if I refer to you as 'astral Cordelia'?"

Cordy shot a look at Spike and muttered, "Well, it's better than 'Coma-Cordy'!"

"---to allow her astral self to become visible on this plane. Cordelia will approach Angel and I'll meet with Wesley. The Roq M'Hzr is currently dormant, having already consumed all their feelings. Spike's idea is that if we go to them with love, the fresh emotions will be irresistible to the parasite, which will transfer from them to us. It will fall to Spike to get Cordelia and me to the trap. Fred can't be involved in this aspect of the project or she could also be infected. I assume Cordy and I will be starting to feel the effects by this point, so Spike will keep us on track. Spike and I are already dead, so the Roq M'Hzr won't be able to affect us physically; we won't experience any actual brain configuration, but you are aware that if this goes wrong in any way, it could be fatal to Cordelia."

"I'm willing to take the chance, if it will save Angel," Cordy said quietly.

"We're all clear then?" asked Spike. "Fred, go with Lilah. She'll show you where to find the talismans and books you'll need. Cordy an' I'll be along in a bit."

Fred and Lilah left to obtain the necessary supplies and Spike looked at Cordelia, concern darkening his eyes.

"You're sure you want to do this, love? Wouldn't blame you if you gave it a pass. The danger's greater for you, in'nt? Whatever happens to Lilah an' me . . . well, we've both had a good run. Happens I've grown bloody fond of you, Cor, and I don't fancy losin' a friend."

Cordelia reached out and gently touched his cheek.

"I'm sure. I have to do this. Angel means a lot to me. His mission is important to me, and to the world. I can't lose him, Spike! I'll do whatever it takes . . ."

Spike nodded once. "Been there m'self. Alright then, let's go kick some Roq M'Hzr ass!"

XXXXXXXXXX

"Angel?"

Angel looked up with dull eyes that seemed fixated on things others couldn't see.

Cordy rushed forward. "Oh, my God, Angel! What's happened to you?"

"No good. No good. Never was. Never will be," Angel mumbled.

Cordy touched his chin and raised his face to look into his eyes.

"Whatever you're seeing, Angel, it isn't real."

Angel jerked his face away. "Of course it's real; it's all that is real. I'm a monster---I try to pretend I'm not, but I am and always will be. I've killed . . . so many . . . too many to count. A thousand? A thousand-thousand? A man should remember the people he kills, but I'm not a man. I'm a monster---a monster who kills with a song in his heart and blood on his lips . . ."

Smack!

"Snap out of it!"

Angel's eyes focused and he stared at Cordy, who apparently had just slapped him.

"Listen up, Guilt-boy! You've done some really terrible things? Nobody's perfect! Everyone on this earth has done things they regret, things they're sorry for, things they wish they hadn't done. You can't change what you've done; you can only change yourself so you don't do them anymore and maybe try to do a little good in the bargain! You're a good man, Angel."

"I was never a good man . . . a drunken, whoring, worthless . . ."

"Liam was the whoring drunk! Angelus was the murderous fiend! They're both parts of you, but you're more than either of them. You're you. You're Angel. Angel atones for Liam's stupidity and Angelus' cruelty and Angel makes a difference. I love you, Angel! You're my best friend, my teacher, my role model, for God's sake!"

"And she shall look on him with forgiveness, and with love, and he shall be loved . . ." Spike whispered, and for the first time he felt compassion for Angel. Not anger, jealousy, rage, resentment, or any of the usual feelings that invariably surfaced whenever he was in Angel's vicinity, but compassion and understanding.

A slow smile spread over Angel's face as he looked at Cordelia, and Spike jumped to Cordy's side to hurry her to the rendezvous.

XXXXXXXXXX

**Part 10**

Fred had laid out two books, open to the relevant pages and marked the necessary passages with post-it notes. Two bundles of what looked like twigs and dried flowers, tied with red thread were next to them on the desk. A third book was beside Lilah's laptop. Spike hurried a sobbing, self-castigating Cordy into Wes' office, and then dashed into the adjoining library to grab Lilah.

He spoke the marked passages as best he could, having no idea what language they were in.

"Bloody hell! Wish the demon blokes that make up these words would get a clue and buy a vowel!"

Spike picked up the first talisman, and read from the second book and then snapped it in half. Lilah's form winked out of this existence. He repeated the words and broke the second talisman. Cordy's astral self disappeared also.

Fred rushed into the room with a small metal box that she placed beside the computer and flicked a switch. A blue shimmer surrounded the computer. Spike read from the third book, and the computer disappeared.

"Did it work? Did we destroy it?" Fred asked anxiously.

"Dunno, pet. May have done. Or we may have sent it to the Land of the Trolls, or possibly the World Without Shrimp. In any event, it's gone from here. Go check on Wesley, Fred. There's somethin' I've gotta do."

XXXXXXXXXX

Spike manifested in Angel's office to see Angel looking around in a dazed way.

"Spike!" Angel leapt to his feet, fists clenched at his sides. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Back off, Pink Ranger! I'm here to help. You and Watcher Junior were infected by a Roq M'Hzr fear parasite. It brings out your deepest fears, so if you've been feeling extra-broody as of late, that's why. Don't worry, mate, we took care of it, so you should be back to regular brood mode in no time."

"You know about the Roq M'Hzr?"

"Well, yeah."

"And you . . . saved me from it?"

Spike snorted. "Not me, mate. Cordelia saved your sorry ass . . . at great personal risk to herself, I might add."

"Cordelia . . . Cordelia was here? I thought I dreamed . . ."

Angel rushed past Spike to race to the hospital ward.

Spike followed at a discrete distance, choosing not to pop in before Angel could get there.

When he arrived, Angel was on his knees beside Cordy's bed, holding both her hands in his, a single tear glistening on his cheek.

"Well, that's a first! Never knew the Great Ponce even had tear ducts. Maybe there's hope for 'im yet!"

Cordelia opened her eyes and slowly focused. "Angel?"

Spike jumped four feet into the air, pumping his left fist in jubilation.

"Yes! We did it, Cor!! You're back!"

Spike glanced over to see Angel's head on Cordelia's shoulder and heard what sounded suspiciously like muffled sobs. Spike blew Cordelia a kiss, and with a wink at her, he disappeared.

XXXXXXXXXX

Spike manifested in the Elsewhere. Lilah was sitting on a cream-colored leather couch, legs crossed, both arms stretched out on either side over the back of the couch.

"Did'ja bring anything else with you besides the furniture?" Spike asked, raising an eyebrow.

Lilah gestured and a coffee table appeared; a full bottle of Jim Beam and two glasses, one filled with ice, in the center of the table.

Spike sprawled on the sofa next to Lilah and lit a cigarette.

"_Louie, I think this is the start of a beautiful friendship_," he said and reached for the bottle.

**The End**

Spike's final quote is from _Casablanca_.


End file.
